


but i live in a hologram with you

by strangetowns



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Accidental Self-Injury, Blood, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetowns/pseuds/strangetowns
Summary: “Sorry.”David presses the pad of his thumb against Matteo’s lips. “Don’t be,” he says, sounding utterly serious. He spreads his fingers, whole hand covering his mouth.“Okay,” Matteo says against the skin of his palm.“Okay,” David says.And now he’s smiling too.-Matteo and David and what it's like to make a quiet life together.





	1. talk it up like yeah

**Author's Note:**

> So this series of ficlets is basically a collection of snapshots of David and Matteo's post s3 relationship loosely inspired by Lorde's "Pure Heroine" album! I originally wrote and posted these on Tumblr throughout the season and am now in the process of editing them, adding some new material [esp to the older ones], rearranging them in album order, and basically just making them pretty for AO3. No real posting schedule, i'm planning on throwing these up as I finish editing, but if you want you can check out the original fics [here](https://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com/tagged/but-i-live-in-a-hologram-with-you/chrono) in the order I wrote them. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy these tiny things!
> 
> Thank you to [Lyds](http://boxesfullofthoughts.tumblr.com/) for looking over the entire series for me, and to [Arin](http://arindwell.tumblr.com/) for the additional eyes on a few of these. And of course thank you to Lorde for producing the most davenzi album I can even imagine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Matteo break into an abandoned tennis court.
> 
> Originally posted on 4/14/2019 for my friend [Allie's](https://evakuality.tumblr.com) birthday!

[ _It's a new art form showing people how little we care_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8Ymd-OCucs)  
[ _We're so happy, even when we're smiling out of fear_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8Ymd-OCucs)  
[ _Let's go down to the tennis court and talk it up like yeah_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8Ymd-OCucs)

-

It’s a hot night. They kicked the covers off of themselves and tugged their shirts off a while ago, but when David splays his hand across Matteo’s ribs he can still feel the sweat against his skin, sticky and hot. Matteo’s eyes are closed, and his breathing is shallow. And slow. David lets his eyes trail down from Matteo’s face – beautiful and sweet in its peacefulness as it is – to the rise and fall of his hand with Matteo’s chest.

“Are you trying to sleep or something?” he says.

Matteo’s eyes flutter open. He turns his head to meet David’s gaze. “No.”

“It’s late.” David gets it, though. Lying here, the intoxicating heat of Matteo’s body against his and the feeling of his heartbeat in the palm of his hand – he doesn’t want to fall asleep, either.

“I’m hungry,” Matteo says.

David traces his hand down the length of Matteo’s body, thumb caressing his sternum, fingertips counting the freckles on his waist, down, down until his hand rests against Matteo’s stomach. Matteo’s breath hitches, very slightly. David doesn’t miss it.

“Don’t think we have any food in the house,” David says.

“That’s okay,” Matteo says. “We should go to McDonald’s.”

David buries his laughter in the warmth of Matteo’s shoulder. “Sure,” he says. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Matteo’s face lights up. “Really?” he says. As if he hadn’t actually expected David to say yes.

Which is absurd, frankly. He should know better by now.

“Yes,” David says. “Really.” He pushes himself off the bed, pulls the nearest shirt from off the floor and tosses it at Matteo.

Matteo catches it in one hand, and grins at him. Even now, David finds it breathtaking.

After they tug on their clothes they leave the flat and make their way to the street. Matteo doesn’t seem to want to stray too far from David, his knuckles brushing against the back of David’s hand insistently. David can’t help but smile at him. He just feels so good right now. He’s always loved Berlin at this time, late enough to be thrilling and early enough for the night to feel full of possibility. And it’s nice out, slight breeze pleasantly cool against his cheekbones, and the street is empty. He breathes in, letting the air fill in some of the cracks in his chest, and that feels good too. Feels comfortable in a way he can’t often claim for his own.

They pass a streetlight that casts them in soft orange light, Matteo’s pale skin almost glowing in the dark. He tilts his head back to squint at the flickering bulb. “McDonald’s is kind of far, isn’t it?” he says doubtfully.

David huffs out a laugh and knocks their shoulders together. “It’s a ten minute walk.”

Matteo shoves at his arm. “I can feel you judging me from here.”

“Just stating facts.” David turns his head to take stock of where they’re at. No benches, no nearby cafes that are open. They could maybe sit at the curb. But he has a better idea. He takes hold of Matteo’s wrist. “Come on, then.”

“Where are we going?”

David squeezes his fingers around Matteo’s pulse. “We’re taking a break from the world.”

He doesn’t explain. Matteo doesn’t ask, so he knows he doesn’t have to.

They walk in silence, for a while, David’s hold on Matteo’s wrist firm and sure. It’s dark but he knows this street well, would know it in his sleep, his darkest dreams. They walk off the sidewalk, past a building, through a short alleyway. Sooner rather than later they’re at the entrance to an empty tennis court. The gate is locked but there’s a pretty decently sized hole in the fence, and there’s nobody using the place. They squeeze through the gaps in the wire and pause at the edge of the court for a bit, taking it all in. The dead leaves scattered across the pavement, wide cracks with scraggly green weeds sprouting from them, the net at the center of the court visibly fraying at the edges. David thinks this place has been empty for a long time.

Matteo tugs at David’s grip a little, so David lets it loosen. He expects Matteo to pull away but instead Matteo’s hand slides until their palms line up and their fingers are intertwined. A seamless and silent motion. David squeezes Matteo’s hand lightly; and Matteo squeezes back.

They walk to the center of the court, a few meters from the net, and it’s here that Matteo lets go, falling gracelessly to the ground and sprawling out his limbs so that he’s lying spread-eagled toward the sky. David lays himself next to Matteo more carefully, barely a centimeter of space between their outstretched fingertips. He can almost feel the phantom warmth of Matteo’s skin against his – or maybe that’s just the memory of it.

“We’re probably not supposed to be here,” Matteo says.

“Probably,” David says.

Matteo hums tunelessly. “Maybe we should leave.”

David turns his head; watches the stillness of Matteo’s face. “Maybe.”

No one moves. Neither does the silence.

Something nudges against David’s foot. He lifts his head to look down. It’s Matteo’s shoe. As David watches, Matteo hooks his ankle over David’s. And stays there.

And David lets him. He likes the feeling, the weight of it. It reminds him that his body is real, and that he wants it to be.

“It’s so dark,” Matteo says.

David smiles – can’t help himself. “It’s nighttime.”

“And quiet,” Matteo says.

There’s something in his voice, like the words have caught slightly on his teeth, that gives David pause. He decides not to be snarky this time. “Yeah,” he says instead.

For a moment, there’s just the sound of Matteo’s breathing. It’s slow, and hushed.

“You can’t see the stars out here,” Matteo says, softly.

David turns, rolling his body so that he’s on his side. The pavement is hard and unforgiving against his hip, but he doesn’t care.

Matteo’s eyes are closed.

David reaches out with one hand. Most of the time he feels painfully aware of the time that passes them by, how little of it they really have in the long run. Most of the time he’s worrying about losing count of the seconds, or cataloguing all the ways he’s wasting them, or thinking, simply, of how scary it is that time stops for nothing – for no one. Here, though, in this empty place, this tiny and undisturbed corner of the universe, this world away from a world, it’s almost easy to believe they have all the time they could possibly want. So he takes his time. He touches the pad of his thumb to Matteo’s right eyelid and traces along it to the corner of his eye, so gentle it almost feels like he could count his eyelashes by touch if he tried. A shiver runs down his spine as Matteo lets out a trembling breath against the skin of his wrist.

“Still a beautiful night,” David says. He taps a finger over Matteo’s brow; follows the curve of it slowly, carefully.

The corner of Matteo’s mouth tugs upward. His eyes open.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess it is.”

He tilts his face forward, mouth grazing against David’s palm. Just barely.

And something nameless unspools in David’s chest. Something simple; something endless.

The thing is, he wouldn’t trade this for all the stars in the universe.


	2. we're never done with killing time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Matteo and a slow morning.
> 
> Originally posted on 5/5/2019.

[ _Now we're wearing long sleeves_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWGQduke0tc)  
[ _And the heating comes on_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWGQduke0tc)  
[ _(You buy me orange juice)_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWGQduke0tc)  
[ _We're getting good at this_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWGQduke0tc)

-

The clock reads half past nine. David woke up an hour ago but he’s still in bed because he doesn’t have anywhere else to be, and for once he doesn’t mind that at all. He doesn’t mind it because the sun streaming through the thin curtains is gentle, and Matteo’s face is turned to him, the rim of his face half-gilded with golden light; and the light in his eyes is even gentler. David never feels luckier than in moments like these, when he wakes from a dreamless sleep, limbs heavy and warm over the covers, and finds Matteo looking at him like he never once looked away. Like he never wants to.

David doesn’t want him to, either.

“What’re you staring at me for?” he says, just to hear Matteo’s answer. Sometimes he wants that more than anything else, to hear the sound of Matteo’s words shaped by his soft voice. It hardly matters what the words themselves are in moments like these.

Slowly, Matteo reaches out and touches the corner of David’s eye with the tip of his finger. “Eye booger,” he says.

David’s laugh springs out of him like a fountain. It’s absurd how happy even those words make him. “Gross. Is that what you call it?”

Matteo shrugs. He runs the back of his knuckle alongside the length of David’s cheekbone and lays his fingers flat against David’s jawline. “What do _you_ call it, then?”

“I don’t know.” David catches hold of Matteo’s wrist and brings his hand to his mouth – presses a kiss to the pad of his thumb. “Crusty eyes.”

“That’s just as gross.” Matteo tugs his arm out of David’s loose grip and brushes a curl of hair out of David’s forehead.

The inside of David’s chest is impossibly warm. “ _You’re_ gross.”

Matteo huffs out a quiet laugh. Spreads his fingers through David’s hair and lets them linger. “That’s okay.”

There’s a smile hovering at the corner of David’s mouth. He didn’t notice it when it came. He hopes it stays.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he says.

Matteo snakes his arms around David’s waist, hands brushing across his back. “Not from you.”

David blows a puff of air into Matteo’s face and Matteo jerks his head back, laughing. But still he doesn’t let go.

“Rude fucker,” David tells him.

Still laughing, Matteo leans his face forward and nuzzles it into David’s shoulder. The feeling of his unrestrained joy trembles throughout David’s entire body, like an earthquake.

“That’s okay, too,” Matteo says, voice muffled and soft. When he says it like that it’s not hard for David to believe him.

“So are we staying here forever, then?” David says into his hair.

“I didn’t say that.” Matteo pushes himself up, extricating himself from David’s embrace, and rolls off the bed gracelessly. “How about I make _you_ breakfast?”

David props himself up on his elbows, grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matteo says. His eyes shine in the morning light. “We all know I do it better, anyway.”

David launches himself out of bed and lunges at him, arms wrapping around his chest, and they’re both up, and they’re both laughing. And Matteo’s stumbling out the door, tugging David along with him, and he’s stepping on David’s toes and David’s shoving his hand into Matteo’s face in retaliation. And now they’re in the kitchen, and Matteo takes hold of David’s face and presses a sloppy kiss to his temple before turning away, soft smile still lingering on the edge of his mouth.

“Breakfast,” David reminds him.

“Coffee,” Matteo answers, raising his eyebrows.

So David dutifully takes his place by the coffee machine, and when it starts to burble he turns in place to watch Matteo move through the rest of the room. Pulling bowls and spoons and cups from the cabinets. Lining them up carefully on the table. Gathering pots and pans and spices on the counter. He likes being here, David knows, likes losing himself in the rhythm of preparing for a meal. And so David likes being here, too, because he likes it when Matteo is in a place where he feels at home – no matter where it is, it always starts feeling like David’s home, too.

Which might be a bit silly, he knows. He doesn’t actually live in this flat. Hans teases him for it sometimes, calls him the “fifth roommate”, asks him when he’ll start chipping in on Matteo’s bills because Lord knows the boy could use the help. And he knows Hans never means anything by it. He knows that, and it makes him feel oddly guilty, anyway. He’s not allowed to call this apartment a home, not yet, and he’s okay with that. He’s used to that. But maybe one day, it could be.

Matteo’s humming a jaunty little tune, now, as he works. The sound of the melody pulls another smile out of David. What a wonderful morning, he thinks. What a wonderful life.

Matteo shuffles over to the fridge and opens it. And he stops humming.

The silence is jarring enough to catch David’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

Matteo shakes his head. “Nothing. Just – ” He reaches into the depths of the fridge and pulls out a glass jug of orange juice, staring at it in bewilderment. “I didn’t buy this. Did I? Why is it on my shelf?”

“Oh.” A sudden wave of chagrin washes over David. “Uh, no. I did.”

He hadn’t told Matteo. It’s not that he forgot to - he just didn’t. Now he wonders if he should have asked, if he shouldn’t have just assumed this would be okay. It’s just that those jokes from Hans got under his skin more than he’d like to admit, even though every time Matteo heard them he’d roll his eyes and tell David not to listen to him. It’s just that if David offered to help Matteo with his rent, Matteo would say no in a heartbeat, David doesn’t even have to ask to know. It’s just that he’d liked the idea, at the time, of Matteo happening upon this jug of his favorite orange juice, and holding it in his hands, and recognizing it as a token of David’s gratitude. He hadn’t imagined actually being in the room when Matteo found it. And it’d felt like an utterly inadequate way of earning his keep, to be sure, but at the time it’d still felt like something.

David’s not quite sure what it feels like right now.

Matteo carefully sets the jug of orange juice on the counter and closes the fridge door. He walks over to David, and looks him in the eyes.

“What is it?” he says.

David takes hold of the counter behind him, to steady himself. “Nothing,” he says. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Matteo says.

David couldn’t look away from his quiet eyes even if he tried.

“I just…” David shrugs helplessly. “Sorry for taking up your shelf space without asking.”

Matteo looks at him for a long moment. And then he leans his face forward, without warning. Their foreheads knock gently together. He grabs hold of David’s wrists and spreads their joined arms out wide.

“You can take up all the space you want,” Matteo says.

David closes his eyes.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “I like it that way.”

He lets their arms drop down, and he lifts his face up, and like an instinct David tilts his face down; and Matteo brushes his lips across David’s brow. And something swells inside David’s chest, like a crescendo to his favorite song.

Shit. Maybe he likes it this way, too.

Matteo squeezes his hands, one last time, and smiles at him. He shuffles back over to the other counter and grabs the jug of orange juice. “Do you want some?”

“Um…” David rubs the back of his neck. “I meant it to be for you.”

“So?” Matteo shrugs. “It can be yours, too. If you want.”

And now David’s chest feels so fucking tight it could burst.

“Okay, then,” he says. “I want some.”

Matteo takes two glasses from the table and fills them up generously, to the very brim. He picks them up, careful not to spill a drop. Silently, he hands one to David. He nudges their thumbs together, as the cup passes between them. He smiles.

And David brings the cup to his lips, and drinks.

Honest to god, he’s never tasted something so sweet.


	3. a different kind of buzz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Matteo keep warm on a cold winter day.
> 
> Originally posted on 4/1/2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple quick notes:
> 
> -I actually did a full rewrite of this one, which is why it took me a bit longer than usual. This will hopefully be the longest it takes me to fix up an update, knock on wood!
> 
> -Probably should have mentioned this at the beginning but better late than never i guess lol - these fics are not meant to be in chronological order! In fact I wrote them to stand on their own! Although of course I would greatly appreciate taking the time to read them all :’]
> 
> -I know this seems a bit David pov heavy sdjfnsdkfjns but I can guarantee Matteo pov will be coming up very very soon!
> 
> Okay that’s it! I hope you guys enjoy this one!

[ _And we'll never be royals_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlcIKh6sBtc)  
[ _It don't run in our blood_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlcIKh6sBtc)  
[ _That kind of lux just ain't for us_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlcIKh6sBtc)  
[ _We crave a different kind of buzz_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlcIKh6sBtc)

-

David supposes he has to feel lucky it didn’t snow today. He didn’t wear the right shoes; his hoodie’s too thin; he’s already lost all the feeling in his fingers even without the help of falling ice. But still, despite the lack of snow the sky is dark and heavy with low-hanging clouds, and the chilling wind bites at his hands, nips at his nose, seeps under all the layers of clothing he’d attempted to swathe himself in as some semblance of protection. It’s all the unforgiving harshness of winter without any of the beauty. Not his favorite kind of day.

So he has a lot of reasons for feeling glad – relieved, perhaps more accurately; or would happy be a better word? – when he finally gets home. The warmth of the flat is one. It hits him in the face full-force when he opens the door, flooding his nostrils with familiarity and leaving his fingertips tingling pleasantly. He strips his coat off and hangs it by the door, pulls off his hoodie and scarf and hat, rubs his hands together, feels the life crawl slowly back into his skin – all of it is an unbelievable pleasure.

A faint noise from within the depths of the flat, like a sniffle, catches David’s attention. He kicks off his shoes, shoves his hands deep into his pockets; makes his way into the living room where, unsurprisingly, there’s a pile of blankets heaped on the couch, with a head of messy hair just barely poking out of it at the sound of his entry.

“Hey,” Matteo says, voice muffled by the quilt pulled over his mouth. He tugs the fabric down, a little, so that David can see his smile.

That, right there. That’s the other reason.

“Hey.” David crosses the room and puts his hands on both sides of Matteo’s face so that he can bend down and press a kiss to the crown of his head. Before he can make it all the way, though, Matteo is twisting out of his grip, retreating from his touch back into his ridiculous cocoon.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Your hands are cold.”

“Oh, really?” David lets himself grin, for a wicked moment, before promptly sliding his hand under the collar of Matteo’s shirt.

“Fuck!” The startled shout pulls a laugh out of David effortlessly, and it feels so good to let it go he almost believes it could be endless, this dizzyingly wonderful sensation of joy. Matteo makes a weak attempt at batting away David’s hands – he’s hardly even trying, honestly – and, when that doesn’t work, grabs at David’s wrist. David lets him – mostly because he doesn’t actually want Matteo to stop touching him, either – and then Matteo is pulling David forward with a strength that catches him off guard, enough that he stumbles forward without meaning to, and now David is fully on top of Matteo, face crushed against his chest. And now they’re tumbling to the ground, blankets wrapping haphazardly around David’s waist as they go. And now he’s smiling so hard it nearly hurts.

They grapple with each other for a bit, more out of habit than anything else. Matteo’s toes pressing against David’s shins, David’s hands wrapping around Matteo’s wrists, a push and pull so easy to fall into it almost feels like its own dance. It doesn’t take long for the wrestling to become more and more half-hearted until before he knows it it’s become something else entirely. Something quiet. Something yielding. At some point they’d ended up completely entangled in the sheets, nearly covered from head to toe, and as the darkness settles over them their bodies shift, moving together seamlessly, wordlessly. David’s arms circle round Matteo’s waist; Matteo’s back slides against his chest; in the silence, their hands find each other, and hold on.

David skims his nose over the back of Matteo’s neck, and slides his free hand through Matteo’s hair. It’s soft to the touch. Always so soft.

He almost hadn’t realized how much he missed Matteo while he was gone, all the way up until this very moment, now that he no longer has to. He rarely does. The absence of Matteo by his side, when he has to live with it, is so vast, so pervasive – less a hole and more of a void. It only starts to feel definable when it’s been filled back up again.

“Still cold?” David whispers against the shell of Matteo’s ear.

“Yes.” The softest part of Matteo has to be his voice – the sound of this word molded by the familiar, dear shape of his mouth.

David breathes out a laugh. “You can warm me back up again.”

He half-expects Matteo to put up another protest. Shove a hand into his face, maybe. Elbow him in the gut.

He doesn’t.

He just breathes.

And David closes his eyes. The rise and fall of Matteo’s chest under their joined palms is an incredible feeling to revel in.

“Hey,” David says. “Did you go to the store?”

There’s a long stretch of silence. The kind of silence that tells David Matteo hasn’t moved much at all today.

“No,” Matteo says, finally.

David leans his forehead into his hair. “Do you want to go later?”

“No.”

The answer, this time, is immediate. But there’s something heavy inside it, too. Something that reminds David, a little, of guilt. The feeling of recognition – the reminder that Matteo carries some of the same weight that he does – makes his heart twist in his chest. He understands better than most how hard that weight is to carry, some days. Most days.

All of them.

“Okay,” David says. “Then let’s stay here.”

Matteo shifts in David’s hold. “Yeah?”

And David whispers a kiss against the ridges of his spine. “Yeah.”

They don’t speak, for a long while. David keeps his eyes closed. If he shifts his grip, just slightly, he can catch the beat of Matteo’s pulse against the pad of his thumb. It’s a steady rhythm, a slow song. David has never been able to fall asleep to music, and he probably won’t fall asleep now. Still, it’s a nice thought. Just for a moment, he lets himself hold onto it.

“Wouldn’t it be good,” he says, “to stay in here forever?”

He means the words as a comfort. A dream to believe in. He knows Matteo likes believing in things – is in fact intimately familiar with his capacity for believing, the depth of the hope that lives inside of him. He doesn’t actually mean them seriously, not in that way, because of course they can’t stay in here forever, of course they’ll have to get up and leave eventually. But the pace of Matteo’s breathing slows and deepens, and David can tell he’s thinking about the question – actually thinking about it.

“No,” Matteo says.

Very rarely does David find himself taken aback by something Matteo says, at this point. But now is definitely one of those times.

“No?” he asks. He wants to hear what Matteo will say next. He always wants that.

“I think…” Matteo exhales. “I think it’d be better to see the whole world, if I could do it with you.”

David lets the words settle softly around him. Like freshly fallen snow.

“Even when it’s cold?” he says. It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out all quiet and gentle and sounds like anything but. Go figure. He thinks most of his words sound like that, around Matteo.

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “Even then.”

He sounds so serious saying that. Like he means it with his whole heart. David can’t help it – he smiles. He leans forward to bury it in the crook of Matteo’s shoulder.

“Me too,” he whispers.

Matteo squeezes David’s hand. He lodges his foot between David’s legs. Lets it linger there.

And they stay like that, for a while. Not for forever. But still. It’s long enough.


	4. this dream isn't feeling sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matteo and David and a sleepless night.
> 
> Originally posted on 4/20/2019.

[ _You're the only friend I need_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)   
[ _Sharing beds like little kids_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)   
[ _Laughing 'til our ribs get tough_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)   
[ _But that will never be enough_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)

-

Some indeterminate time past midnight, Matteo jolts awake.

The room is dark, and cold, and silent.

It’s the cold that most alarms him, as his hands reach out for something he can’t find. It’s the emptiness his fingers grasp at that frightens him, a fear he recognizes viscerally before he can consciously register the reason for it. He closes his eyes again, briefly, and forces himself to breathe, to remember what it is he aches to hold. It takes a bit of time because his head is so heavy with exhaustion, sluggish with clinging sleep, but once he has the answer he opens his eyes again and turns his head to the window, and he knows, he knows before he sees but still his entire heart coils in on itself when he sees David sitting there on the floor. He’s hunched over something in his lap, gripping something in his right hand, white light in his left – his phone? – setting the edges of him into sharp, blinding relief. Matteo can’t see his face.

“David?” Matteo croaks. His voice is weighed down with the vestiges of sleep, too, a worn rasp that grates against his own ears.

He watches as David’s shoulders stiffen. Watches as his arm stills.

“Did I wake you?” David says, very softly. He doesn’t turn around.

“No.”

David says nothing, in response.

“Can’t sleep?” Matteo tries. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do. Pretty much everything in this moment feels hopelessly inadequate. And his mind right now is moving so slowly.

A sigh seeps out of David, quiet and aching.

“No,” David says.

“I’m sorry.” The words twist in Matteo’s throat.

“It’s okay.”

It’s not. They both know it.

Matteo rubs at his eyes, before rolling out of bed and walking over to David in slow and stuttering steps. As he approaches he catches glimpse of a notebook lying open on David’s knees, intricate sketch lines in dark pencil sprawling across the page. David closes the notebook, setting it aside, and turns off the light, leaving behind a sudden darkness that makes Matteo blink. Carefully, half-afraid he’ll fall over in the process, he sits down, and presses his toes to the side of David’s foot. An exhale trembles out of David’s lungs. A precious and breakable sound. Matteo wishes he could cradle it in his hands like a baby bird.

“You should go back to bed,” David says. He pulls his knees to his chest and grips at his ankles.

Matteo tilts his head and looks at him. The curtains are open, and the moon tonight is full and pale against David’s face. His piercing gleams dully in the silver light. His eyes do not.

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” Matteo says. “So I figured we could be sleepless together.”

David doesn’t smile at that, but a huff of air that could almost pass for laughter escapes his lips, and he casts a sidelong glance at Matteo. Matteo feels impossibly warm under his furtive gaze, that hard-earned thing.

“That sounds nice,” David says.

His thumb is stroking idly at the sharp bone of his ankle. Matteo considers the motion, the fragility of it. A tiny little thing, barely even visible in the midst of the night’s shadows; but for that reason it’s so quintessentially David it makes his throat hurt.

“You sound nice,” Matteo says.

And at last there it is, the barest upward tug at the edge of David’s mouth. The ache in Matteo’s throat melts into something sweeter.

“You’re just being silly,” David says.

“I’m not,” Matteo says. “You always sound nice.”

David tilts his head down, hiding his face with his knees. But not before Matteo sees the brightness that catches at his lips and the corners of his eyes like some glorious flame.

A small fire ignites beneath Matteo’s breastbone, too. A gentle ember.

He pushes at David’s foot with his toes, very lightly.

A moment passes.

And David pushes back.

Their toes curl against each other, toenails biting gently into skin. And Matteo kicks at his shin, and David catches the heel of his foot with his own and pushes back, a bit harder this time. And Matteo pushes too. They’re both pushing. A back and forth, at first, and then a game, and then a battle. It’s wordless, the way they fall into this. But also wondrously easy. Matteo’s feet know David’s feet; his body knows David’s body. It’s really that simple.

And now they’re fully wrestling with their feet, soles pressed up against each other as Matteo reaches behind him to brace himself. And now he’s laughing, gasping with it, giddy from how light his chest suddenly feels; and David is laughing, too.

Thank god, he thinks. Thank god for this small and beautiful miracle.

At last David shoves at him with his foot hard enough that he tips over and he lets himself fall, landing on his back with his chest heaving and his heart pounding in a good way. His fingertips are tingling and so are his toes, and so is his entire body when David falls backwards too, back of his hand brushing against Matteo’s knuckles. The floor is cold and hard against Matteo’s shoulder blades but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

He can feel David’s hand turn so that now it’s his fingertips that are pressed against Matteo’s skin. Matteo understands the language of his touch in a way that feels rooted in the core of himself. Fundamental and wordless. One point of pressure, two, three; hesitation, and a question. David wants to ask him something; he doesn’t know if he’s ready for it.

Matteo twitches his knuckles against David’s palm. He’s listening.

In the silence, Matteo can hear David swallow.

“You ever have those nights,” David says, “when your thoughts are too loud?”

“Yeah.” Matteo doesn’t even have to think about it to answer. He knows what that feels like. He knows it very well. “Is this one of those nights for you?”

David doesn’t answer, which in itself is answer enough.

“That sucks.” Matteo reaches out and presses his thumb to David’s forehead, in the space between his eyebrows. “Sorry your brain is being such a bitch.”

David laughs. The sound of it sends a quiet thrill down Matteo’s spine. “What’re you gonna do, fight it?”

“If I have to,” Matteo says, matter of fact.

David smiles at the ceiling. “Thanks,” he says. There’s a lightness to his voice, a joking lilt that on the surface matches Matteo’s tone. But there’s a softness to it, too. It makes the word sound like something David means.

“What are you thinking about?” Matteo says, suddenly curious.

David curls his fingers over Matteo’s. “Do you ever wonder what’s out there in the universe?”

A big question that probably deserves a big answer. Matteo shouldn’t be surprised it’s a question that lives inside David’s brain. A lot of his questions are like that.

“What do you mean?” Matteo says.

Matteo’s questions, in comparison, are small. All the words inside of him are small.

“The universe,” David says. “Think about all that space. The infinity of it. There’s an infinity of stars and planets and galaxies out there, and we’ll probably never know a thing about any of them.”

Matteo turns his head. David’s face is still turned upward. Eyes wide and unblinking.

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “That’s probably true.”

“Do you…” David’s voice catches, just a little. “Do you ever think about all the secrets of the universe you’re missing out on?”

“Hm.” Matteo wasn’t holding his breath but he lets it go, anyway. “No, I don’t think so.”

“No?” David repeats.

“No,” Matteo says. “I don’t have to.”

The words settle into the space between them, the cracks in their shared silence. The sound of them fills the room slowly, persistently, with an unspoken significance that, to Matteo, feels a little something like peace.

“Oh,” David says. The word comes out sounding hushed and awed. Almost reverent.

He turns his head to look at Matteo, then. Finally.

And all is soft, and quiet.

Matteo turns his hand, and wraps his fingers lightly around David’s wrist.

“Do you want to go back to bed now?” he says.

David nods.

So Matteo pushes himself off the ground, and reaches out. This time, his hand finds what it was looking for. An inevitability, all along.

They sink into bed with their fingers still intertwined, pulling the covers over themselves and turning in tandem to face each other. Out of the light of the moon and in the shadows of the room Matteo can’t see David’s eyes anymore. But still. This feeling is enough.

“Sleep well,” Matteo says. “Or your brain and I will be having words.”

David laughs, and the feeling of it vibrates through Matteo’s whole body. Something soft brushes against Matteo’s collarbone. A hand.

Matteo lets his eyes flutter shut.

“You’re good,” David whispers.

_So are you_ , Matteo’s thoughts whisper back. _God; so are you._

The echo inside him throbs and swells and ebbs; it fills up his whole body with truth.

And the feeling of it is so gentle he lets it carry him away into the darkness.


	5. when your head caught flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: haircuts is gay culture.
> 
> Originally posted on 3/17/2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this is the second draft of the very first fic I ever wrote for David and Matteo! Wow!!! Also I would be remiss if I didn't throw a shout out to this lovely piece of [art](https://twitter.com/miirvrt/status/1105251841015721984) which gave me the idea for the fic in the first place.

[ _We ride the bus with the knees pulled in_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pstVCGyaUBM)  
[ _People should see how we're living_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pstVCGyaUBM)  
[ _Shut my eyes to the song that plays_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pstVCGyaUBM)  
[ _Sometimes this has a hot, sweet taste_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pstVCGyaUBM)

-

This isn’t the first time Matteo’s been in David’s bathroom, but it is the first time he’s showered here.

It’s not a big thing. Really, it’s not. They’re not even showering together. Matteo was too impatient to wait until he got back to his own flat so now he’s stealing all of David’s hot water. And his shampoo. And his soap.

His soap.

Matteo brings his hands to his face; inhales deeply. He recognizes the smell of David in the cracks of his palms. Immediately he’s filled with warmth, and comfort. It’s just soap, he knows, but realistically he can’t help the way his heart wants to feel safe in this moment. It kind of just happened on its own.

That’s true about this whole thing, isn’t it? Objectively speaking it’s just a bathtub, just a bathroom, just a house. But also, it’s David’s bathtub, and it’s David’s bathroom, and it’s David’s house. Honestly that makes all the difference. It really does.

His fingertips are getting wrinkly. Probably a sign he should stop. He turns off the shower and gets out. As he pulls on a pair of pants David shoulders the door open. “Are you decent yet?”

Matteo throws his balled up socks at David, feeling somewhat vindicated when they bounce off his stomach. “Like that’s ever bothered you before.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” David throws the socks back so that they hit Matteo squarely in the face. “You’re never decent.”

Matteo flips him off lazily, more out of habit than anything else. “What’re you doing in here?”

David grabs his toothbrush. “Can’t a guy brush his teeth in his own bathroom?”

“No,” Matteo says, even as he reaches for the toothpaste on the counter and tosses it to David. Probably says a lot that he can’t even pretend to resist what David wants, not really.

But he can’t dwell on that for too long because it’s then that David directs a bright and genuine grin at him, which of course makes it completely worth it.

“Oh, yeah,” David says, waving his toothbrush in the air. “There’s an extra one of these in the drawer, if you want it.”

Matteo’s not ashamed to admit he’s willing to take anything David wants to give him, even if it’s something as stupid as a toothbrush. And so he opens the drawer and roots around for it. He doesn’t find the toothbrush, though. Instead, his hand wraps around what feels like a heavy chunk of plastic. He pulls it out and stares at it. Electric clippers in his hand.

He looks at himself in the mirror, still fogged up from the shower’s mist, and pulls his fingers through his hair. It’s been a while since he got it cut, hasn’t it? A thought takes hold at the corner of his mind, sudden but nagging. He frowns at his reflection.

“Hey, David?”

He didn’t mean for his name to sound so much like a question.

“Yeah?” David answers, voice muffled around his toothbrush.

“Have you…” Matteo hesitates, for a reason he can’t quite articulate to himself. “Have you ever cut hair before?”

David spits into the sink and wipes at his mouth. Matteo wonders, for a moment, if David will laugh or even smile. In the end, David does neither of those things, just taps a finger to his chin and hums in thought, and Matteo wonders why he wondered that at all.

“My sister and I used to cut each other’s hair,” David says. “To save money, and all that. It’s been a couple years, though.”

Matteo nods. “I do it to save money, too,” he says, softly.

This time David doesn’t say anything. Matteo looks down at his hand again, the clippers in his palm. He doesn’t have to look to know that David is watching him.

At last, he makes up his mind, and holds the clippers out to David. It’s dumb as hell but his heart is catching against his rib cage, dull thumps in his chest like a newborn bird that doesn’t know how to get off the ground, when David takes them. Stupid, stupid, dumb; he doesn’t meet David’s eyes.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” David says. It’s a genuine question. No bemusement, no mockery. His way of things, maybe, though Matteo could never grow tired of his frankness. He’d wrap himself up in it if he could.

“Do you think I need a haircut?” Matteo tries for a shrug. Not sure how well he succeeds.

David reaches out and pulls a hand through Matteo’s still-damp hair, easy and breathtakingly familiar. A small shiver climbs down Matteo’s spine and nestles itself inside his gut.

“I don’t know,” David says. “What do you think?”

Their eyes meet in the clouded mirror. Matteo’s gaze drops down, distracted by the motion of his own throat as he swallows.

“I think,” Matteo says, “I want you to do it for me.”

He half-expects more questions – _How? Why? Why me?_ Questions he doesn’t have answers to, because he doesn’t have the words for them. He doesn’t have the words for how he wants to forget the way his mother used to shave his hair down to the scalp when he was very young. How he wants to forget the day she stopped doing it, because she could barely look after her own hair, let alone his. He doesn’t want to remember that, doesn’t want to remember how he taught himself to do it in her stead because he didn’t have the money and thus he didn’t have the choice. How after the first time he did it, sitting back on his heels on the bathroom floor because after a while it became too hard to keep standing, he looked at himself in the mirror and felt inexplicably, irrevocably hollow.

He wants – he wants this to become something different for him. He doesn’t know how to say that out loud.

In the glass he looks over at David again who, of course, hasn’t looked away.

And David says, “Okay.”

It’s as if he knows exactly what to do, from there. He takes Matteo by the shoulders and lowers him gently onto the floor. He walks behind Matteo, lays his hands on him again as he lowers himself down. His knees press lightly into the bones of Matteo’s hips on either side, like a bracket or a home.

A cool palm slides across the length of his shoulder to rest at the place where it meets his neck.

“Jesus.” Matteo feels the whispered word like an imprint against the back of his head. “Your hair really is a mess.”

Matteo coughs out a laugh. And that’s when the clippers press against his scalp. So he catches the sound with the inside of his mouth, and swallows it down to silence.

David is methodical in his work, careful and slow if the feeling of the clippers against his skin is any indication. Up and down, bit by bit. Strands of hair float to the ground like feathers, the proof of David’s touch. Cold fingertips press lightly against his temple, brush the shell of his ear, sweep over his forehead. He closes his eyes. The low hum of the clippers fills his ears to the brim and the whole world narrows down to this, just this – darkness, and the feeling of David’s gentle hands in his hair. Inside of him, he feels impossibly calm.

If he never moved again, he’d be happy.

Time passes by. He’s not sure how much. He stops counting, after a while. Stops caring. Eventually the clippers click off. The silence in its wake is almost shocking. David’s knuckles whisper over his shoulder – to brush off stray pieces of hair, maybe – and Matteo knows he’s done.

“Should have put down a newspaper or something,” David says. “Your gross hair’s all over me now.”

Matteo opens his eyes and turns to look at him. He flashes him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

David presses the pad of his thumb against Matteo’s lips. “Don’t be,” he says, sounding utterly serious. He spreads his fingers, whole hand covering his mouth.

“Okay,” Matteo says against the skin of his palm.

“Okay,” David says.

And now he’s smiling too.


	6. we sure know how to run things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David and Matteo go for a run.
> 
> Originally posted on 4/28/2019.

[ _We live in cities you'll never see onscreen_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2JuxM-snGc)   
[ _Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2JuxM-snGc)   
[ _Livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2JuxM-snGc)   
[ _And you know we're on each other's team_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2JuxM-snGc)

-

The room is still dark when David opens his eyes, which means the sun hasn’t risen yet. And yet, though it must be preposterously early - or possibly preposterously late - he feels miserably, painfully awake. His throat is aching and his temples are pounding with the remnants of a nightmare he can’t remember, which is probably for the best but still discomfits him, this unshakeable feeling of missing - _something_. He doesn’t know what. Not like that’s anything new.

David tips his head back toward the ceiling as the world around him slowly fills itself back in. Each moment that passes, each piece that slides back into place loosens the tightness around his lungs just a little bit. Which is good, he thinks. A little bit at a time is better than nothing at all. It’s progress, isn’t it?

Next to him, Matteo’s breathing is slow, and soft. The sheer contrast to the jagged sharpness still lingering in his chest nearly hurts, in a tangible way.

He reaches for his phone and checks the time, strained eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. It’s nearly half past five.

Jesus.

Careful not to make a noise - Matteo is a light sleeper - David drags a hand across his face. And then he gets up.

David doesn’t usually like to take long showers - it feels like a waste of time, mostly - but this morning he decides he’s feeling a little selfish, a little petulant at the universe, and maybe it isn’t a terrible thing to forego his normal routine every once in a while, maybe it’s good to fool himself into thinking he knows how to relax about something like this. He turns the water on as hot as he can bear it and lets it drum against his scalp, beating the life back into his skin and bones. He closes his eyes, blocks his ears. The sound of the water against his skull turns to thunder - drowns his loud thoughts out.

With just this one thing to focus on, right now, he feels as close to being safe as he ever will.

It’s six thirty by the time he leaves the bathroom, hair mostly dry though still dripping a bit on the fabric of the soft grey hoodie he picks up off the floor and pulls on. He approaches the nightstand to collect his phone, and his heart jolts in his throat when he realizes Matteo is awake, blinking up at him blearily from his cocoon of blankets.

“Time is it?” Matteo mumbles, voice hoarse with sleep.

David steps over to the side of the bed and runs a hand lightly through Matteo’s hair. If he’s letting himself be selfish today this only seems an appropriate course of action to take. “Too early for you,” he says.

“Hm.” Matteo squints up at him. “Where’re you going?”

“Going for a run.”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause as Matteo looks him up and down. He reaches out slowly with one hand, tucking it into the pocket of the hoodie David is wearing. His fist clenches lightly around the fabric. “This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Guess so,” David says, as if he didn’t already know.

“Okay.” And then, astonishingly, Matteo pushes himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, arm still stuck in the pocket of David’s - Matteo’s - hoodie. “I’m coming with you.”

For a moment - a very brief moment - David is struck speechless. Then again, around Matteo, this is nothing new either.

He opens his mouth, meaning to question him in a teasing way - Matteo joining him on a morning run at all let alone one this early is so unprecedented David wants to know if he’s been replaced by a pod person - but Matteo hauls himself up and sleepily nuzzles his face against David’s cheek, arm nestled in the depths of the hoodie pinned between them, and in the end all that comes out of his throat is, “okay.”

He probably should have seen that one coming.

It takes some time for them to get started, for Matteo to wake up properly and get dressed and figure out what exactly they’re going to be doing. It’s still kind of dark when they leave home, so that David has to squint to make out the shape of Matteo next to him. He tries to start off at a reasonable pace while still moving forward. But about ten minutes into the run Matteo bends over and grasps his knees with his hands, too breathless to ask David to slow down.

David slows down anyway. “We can walk. We don’t have to run.”

Matteo looks up at him through the fringe of hair hanging into his eyes. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not,” David says, honestly.

Matteo searches his face, for a long moment. As if looking for truth.

David would give it all to him, if he could.

“We can walk to the park,” Matteo says finally. “And then you can run and I can sit on a bench and cheer you on.”

David laughs, despite himself. Matteo would make a terrible cheerleader. “You won’t get bored?”

“No,” Matteo says.

David’s turn, now, to decide if he believes him.

In the end, it’s not a hard choice to make.

So they walk to the park. Matteo shoves his hands into his pockets, his hood pulled up all the way over his head, and he kicks at David’s feet occasionally, an old game of theirs they’re both used to, but otherwise he doesn’t talk. Which is fine - more than fine. David likes taking in the quiet world around them. He likes taking it in with Matteo by his side. It sort of feels like he notices more than usual. The hazy orange glow at the brim of the horizon. The sound of the gravel under the rubber soles of their shoes. The number of birds that fly above their heads - three, four, five dark shapes against the sky. It’s almost like now that he has a reason to look up from his own feet, now that he has something to look at and pay attention to, he just - takes the opportunity to do so. As easy as that.

At the entrance of the park they find a bench for Matteo to sit on and he collapses on it, head lolling back toward the sky. He gives David a small wave and a smile as he sets off on the path. David waves back, and turns his attention forward. He doesn’t look back - doesn’t have to. The glow in his chest after seeing something like that could probably keep him alive for miles.

As he walks along the trail, David digs his earbuds out of his pocket and presses play on his favorite running playlist. He’s used it a lot this past week and it’s probably in severe danger of being overplayed, but the first track he puts on is an old comfort - a slow, pulsing number by Lorde, great for a quick warm up - and the familiar beat of it seeps so effortlessly into his pulse, the rhythm of his breathing, he just can’t fight how perfect this feels. He walks, slowly at first, and then quickly, and then the song melts into something more upbeat and he picks up the pace, the shock of each step against the concrete a welcome feeling through his entire body. He tilts his head back, drinking in the newborn sun that caresses his cheeks so gently it nearly makes him smile. This isn’t always true but today his lungs feel enormous in his chest, full to bursting with the crispness of the morning air. He feels like he could run forever, if he wanted to.

God. Maybe he does, a little.

And so David goes, one foot in front of the other, the most reliable and innate motion in the world. The ground is solid under his feet, the sky opening up endlessly above and around him. And it’s never felt easier to breathe - to be. It’s only when he’s running that his body finally feels like it could catch up with the speed of his tangled-up brain. He craves this feeling, sometimes, when he’s motionless. Because sometimes his mind goes so fucking fast, his thoughts running round and round in infinite circles, he can’t even begin to figure out what any of them are. Sometimes the inside of his head is the messiest place he can even imagine. And he hates messes.

The thing is, when he runs, it’s almost like he doesn’t care about that. It’s the best pretending he’s ever done.

And with his track record, that’s really saying something.

It takes him twenty-four songs before he circles back to the bench at the entrance of the park. His hoodie is plastered to his skin with sweat, and his temples are pounding with heat. He feels boneless. He feels alive. And Matteo is exactly where David left him, legs curled up under him and head resting on his arms. The rise and fall of his chest is a rhythm David would recognize anywhere. He’s sleeping.

If David’s heart wasn’t already threatening to burst he thinks it might come apart at the seams anyway to see this, how open and sweet Matteo’s face looks when his eyes are closed. David sits himself carefully next to Matteo and brushes the back of his hand against Matteo’s cheek. Matteo wakes like he always does - slowly, like ice melting from his limbs. Eyes fluttering gently open, eyelashes brushing his cheekbones, a tiny yawn escaping his lips. He wipes at his left eye.

“Shit,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” David says. “We all know how hard waking up before ten is for you.”

Matteo shoves at his shoulder, but he can’t hide his smile from David; he never can. “How was the run?”

David lets his head fall back until it hits the top of the bench. “Good. I feel good.”

“Good.” Warmth brushes against his shoulders, the back of his neck. Matteo’s arm, he thinks. “You deserve to feel good.”

David doesn’t say anything to that - he can’t. His eyes slip closed. And the silence between them, that old friend, envelopes him, swells in his chest until it almost feels like it belongs there.

This feeling, this impossible quiet. He feels it the most when he’s around Matteo.

He loves this feeling.

A thumb strokes against the side of his neck, catching at a drop of sweat sliding down his skin. David cracks his eyes open and turns his face to Matteo. There’s a question he can recognize in this touch. He sees it in his eyes, too.

“Why do you like to run?” Matteo says.

David considers this, for a bit. It’s not that he doesn’t have an answer to it - not that he’s never thought about it before. It’s that he’s never put it into words for someone else. Never had to. Or wanted to, before now.

“It’s not so much that I like it,” David says. “It’s more like I need to.”

Matteo nods. “Why?”

“Because…” David lets out a slow breath. “Because I just don’t know how to stop.”

It sounds stupid. He knows it before he even says the words, knows how hopelessly inadequate they are. He says it anyway because he doesn’t have any other words to say. This feeling inside of him - the ceaseless motion - is so vast. So heavy it almost suffocates him some days. And he’s lived with it for so long he doesn’t know how to begin to describe it. It’s like trying to put into words what his own heart looks like. Like trying to draw it on paper.

But when he looks over at Matteo, he doesn’t seem confused. He meets his eyes, and David’s fingertips tingle. That thrill of being - what’s the right word? _Seen_. Somehow he doesn’t think this will ever get old.

“That sounds like it sucks,” Matteo says.

David bites back a smile. “I guess.”

 Matteo’s fingernails scratch gently at his hair. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What’s that?”

Matteo leans in, close enough for their temples to brush and for his words to kiss the shell of David’s ear. “Stopping’s the easy part.”

A smile pries itself loose from somewhere inside David, and this time he can’t stop it from happening. This time he doesn’t want to. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Matteo says with a decisive nod. “Here, I’ll show you.”

David straightens as he watches Matteo get up, stretch his arms above his head, drop them back down at his sides with a loud groan. And then he swings a leg over David’s lap and bends his knees so that they’re lined up with David’s hips, and he’s sitting back on David’s thighs. He wraps his arms around David’s back, and his face falls into the crook of David’s neck.

“Fuck,” David exhales. He doesn’t mean the word in a bad way - not at all. Honestly, in a different context he might. He doesn’t usually like the sensation of something pressing down on him. It makes him feel trapped, and if there’s anything he knows about himself it’s that he’s always, always looking for an escape route, even when he doesn’t mean to.

Right now, he doesn’t want to find an escape route. Right now he kind of just wants to let this moment unfold. It’s a foreign feeling. And yet kind of breathtakingly wonderful, at once.

“See,” Matteo breathes into his shoulder. “You’ve been stopped. Easy.”

“Get off me. My legs are going to fall asleep.” His hands come up to rest between Matteo’s shoulder blades, as if he could press him closer to him if he tried, as if they weren’t already as close as they could possibly be.

Matteo’s hands clutch at the fabric of David’s hood, his knuckles skimming against the back of his neck. “Never.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Matteo lifts his head up, and grins.

“You wanna hear another secret?”

“What?” David says, a little breathless, captivated by his smiling eyes.

Matteo leans in, slowly, until his mouth is an inch from David’s.

“I’m keeping you,” he whispers. His lips are so close David could almost swallow his words whole.

He buries his hands in Matteo’s sweaty hair, letting them slide down the side of his face and the curve of his jaw until his palm is cradling the pulse at his neck. The feeling of it, the reliability of Matteo’s vitality, calms something inside him. Something small. But something meaningful, nonetheless.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

He has no other words to say, no other words inside of him. For once, he’s glad for it.


	7. i don't ever think about death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matteo and David cook dinner. Or try to.
> 
> TW: accidental self-injury and blood.
> 
> Originally posted on 3/21/2019.

[ _No one round here's good at keeping their eyes closed_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XoJ-Q41G3k)   
[ _The sun's starting to light up when we're walking home_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XoJ-Q41G3k)   
[ _Tired little laughs, gold lie promises_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XoJ-Q41G3k)   
[ _We'll always win at this, I don't ever think about death_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XoJ-Q41G3k)   
[ _It's alright if you do, it's fine_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XoJ-Q41G3k)

-

Matteo’s already started cooking dinner by the time David gets home. He can’t always put the effort into such a big meal every night, but he likes it when he does have the energy for it. When he can lay out everything he needs, look over the food on the counter and see how it’s all going to come together over the next couple hours into something whole and delicious. Something more than the sum of its parts. Making something like that is some of the most satisfying work he’s ever done in his life.

Not that he’s immune to distractions when he does it. He tries to keep focused on the vegetables he’s chopping, tries to keep his attention forward even as he can hear David close the front door and take his shoes off and toss his keys into the basket by the door. Pretty much all bets are off, though, as soon as David enters the room, because as soon as he does that he comes up next to Matteo, sliding an arm around his waist, and presses a warm kiss to Matteo’s temple. David’s kisses could topple whole mountains, probably, and Matteo is only a man.

“Hey,” David says.

“Hey.” Matteo knocks their elbows together lightly. “How was your day?”

David steps back to lean against the counter. “Long,” he says. “Better, now that I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “Me too.”

He turns to look back at David. Who is already looking at him.

Matteo raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“I don’t know if I should trust you with a knife as big as that one,” David says, nodding toward the chef’s knife in Matteo’s hand.

Matteo snorts. As if he hasn’t seen him use it a thousand times. “Don’t you trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“Can I ever trust you with that?” David says with a dramatic sigh.

Matteo promptly throws a bell pepper stalk at him, and David bursts into laughter when it hits him in the face and falls to the floor.

“Okay, fine,” David says. “I didn’t mean that. You can stop assaulting me with vegetables now.”

“Oh, can I,” Matteo deadpans.

David huffs out another laugh, softer this time. He comes over, notches his chin on Matteo’s shoulder. His breath is warm against the side of Matteo’s neck.

“I’d trust you with just about anything,” David says. There’s no teasing lilt in his voice, no smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Just sincerity. Something inside Matteo’s heart shivers in the face of it.

He could kiss David right on the mouth, at this angle. It would be so easy. Just tilt his head a little. Let himself fall into the feeling of it. One of his favorite things to do in the world. He almost does it, too, he turns his head and brushes his cheek against David’s hair, but then the water on the stove starts boiling over the edge of the pot and he has to push David out of the way and leap for the oven knob to turn the heat down.

“Well, shit,” Matteo says. “That was close.”

“Am I being distracting?” David asks, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

It should be a silly gesture. Matteo should be able to tug his attention away, no problem. But nothing David’s face does is ever anything but heartstopping, so in the end Matteo does nothing at all. He can only nod.

“Oh my god,” David says with a wide grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

Matteo shrugs as he turns back to the cutting board, with some effort. David’s smiles are pretty much always more interesting than anything else he could pay attention to. “Not my fault I have the world’s hottest boyfriend.”

David rolls his eyes. Matteo doesn’t even have to look to know he’s doing it.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he says. “Try not to burn the food while I’m gone.”

Matteo throws a middle finger up at him, and watches as David lets out one last laugh before he leaves the room. The sound of it echoes in his ears. Makes him warm to hear it, to hold the memory of it inside of him. He smiles as he turns back to the cutting board. Is still smiling, in fact, when a few moments later the knife slips in his grip and slices open his other hand.

A startled cry jumps from his throat, formless and unbidden. He looks down, catches sight of the long gash running parallel to the length of his thumb and the bright red stark against his pale skin, and he thinks, _it hurts_ , in a distant way, mostly because it feels like something he should be thinking. It’s a cut, just a cut; he thinks this, too, as his vision swims at the sight of his own blood.

“Matteo?” someone behind him says, and then – “Christ.” He turns, and David is standing right there. He half-expects him to follow up with something sarcastic - _I leave the room for one second, Mr. Florenzi_ \- but David says nothing as he steps forward and past him. There’s the click of the oven dials as the stovetop turns off, and the sound of the tap as it turns on, and flowing water hitting the bottom of the basin; warmth wraps around his arm and pulls until his hand is under the tap.

And then the sting of soap against the wound, the cool relief of the water against his skin, the tinged pink swirling down the drain. Slowly, beat by beat, the dull roar in his head subsides to a hushed tune, the feeling of David’s fingertips pressed to the inside of his wrist an anchor for his unmoored heartbeat.

Matteo clears his throat. He hadn’t realized how tight it’d been before this moment. “Fuck,” he says. “Never realized a thumb could contain so much blood.”

David chokes out a laugh. “Blood fountain,” he says.

Matteo smiles weakly. “Gross.”

“You started it.”

Matteo laughs, or tries to. He has to stop after a bit. Too lightheaded for laughter right now.

“I think I need to sit down,” he says, feeling vaguely stupid for it, but David only nods, and turns off the tap.

Matteo sinks to the floor and David leaves, for a moment, before returning to sit cross-legged in front of him. He holds out his hand, that steady and reliable thing, and Matteo offers his injured thumb to him without hesitation. David skims his fingers over Matteo’s palm, very briefly. Then he bends over his hand to examine the cut, and presses a square of sheer gauze to it. His fingertips are cool, and his touch is very gentle.

“Sorry.” Matteo looks down. “I should be able to do this on my own.”

David hums in answer. “Maybe,” he says. “But I’m here, so right now you don’t have to.”

Like that, it almost sounds easy.

“Guess you shouldn’t have trusted me with dinner after all,” Matteo says. It’s a joke. It’s supposed to be a joke. It doesn’t really sound like it, though. His voice comes out sounding so weak and so small. He kind of hates it.

David is quiet, for a long moment, as he wraps a bandage around Matteo’s hand. Matteo watches him. Watches the way his teeth bites into his lower lip in concentration. The flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbones. The graceful motions of his fingers.

God. He really is fucking breathtaking.

As David smooths the bandage into place, he looks up, and meets Matteo’s eyes.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he says. “You know that, right?”

Matteo swallows. “Meant what?”

“I’d trust you with anything,” David says, quietly. “And I do. I really do.”

The gentleness in his words – that’s something Matteo trusts, too.

“Okay,” he says. It feels good to say that word.

The corner of David’s mouth tugs upward. He joins their palms together, and rests his other hand lightly over Matteo’s knuckles. He doesn’t let go.

Matteo looks down at their intertwined hands. “I just…” he starts, and finds he can’t finish.

David brushes his thumb over Matteo’s. And he knows he doesn’t have to.

Matteo tries for a smile, instead. “It’s gonna look so ugly when it’s healed,” he says. “What a stupid reason for a scar.”

David brings Matteo’s hand to his mouth; presses a kiss to the back of it, soft as a breath.

“It’s okay,” David says. “I have stupid scars, too.”

Matteo smiles again, at that, a little wider, a little more real. And David squeezes his hand, careful and reassuring.

And in this moment Matteo could almost believe it hurts a little less.


	8. not in the swing of things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matteo and David walk home.
> 
> Originally posted on 3/24/2019.

[ _Riding around on the bikes, we’re still sane_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSlHC0zZUFM)  
[ _I won’t be her, tripping over on stage_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSlHC0zZUFM)  
[ _Hey, it’s all cool_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSlHC0zZUFM)

-

Matteo can’t remember anymore why they decided to walk home instead of just waiting for the bus. But it’s really late - or _really_ early, depending on how you look at things - and somewhere around the time David buries his cold face against his neck to muffle his laughter, arm wrapping around him as Matteo sways unsteadily on his feet, he decides reasons don’t matter.

“Hey,” Matteo says, nudging at David’s face with his shoulder. “Hey, wanna know a secret?”

David leans his head back, just slightly, and Matteo turns so he can see his eyes. It’s dark and there’s only one streetlight on the road they’re on but he swears, he swears David’s eyes are shining. Like stars in an inky black sky. It’s really the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“What?” David says.

Matteo reaches out and touches the pad of his thumb to the corner of David’s mouth. Lets it linger there, so he can feel the way David’s smile unfolds under his touch. To hold his happiness in the palm of his hand, the way he holds it in his heart. To keep it there forever. Matteo wishes, for one delirious moment, that David could be happy for the rest of his life. It’s nothing less than what he deserves.

“I love you,” Matteo tells him. “I love you more than anything else in this shit ass world.”

David laughs, loud and bright and warm. It’s the loveliest sound Matteo has ever heard. As if in a trance, he lets his other hand drift up to cup David’s face. He needs both of them to hold happiness this big.

“You’re drunk,” David says. “You’re so drunk.”

But he leans his head forward until their foreheads touch, so Matteo knows David knows he meant it.

“So are you.” Matteo lowers his arms and wraps them around David’s body, hands resting lightly over his spine. Admittedly this is partially so he can lean on something for a bit. But also because hugging David is kind of the only thing he wants to do right now. “Swear you haven’t stopped laughing like a maniac for two whole hours now.”

David snorts, which might be an ugly sound if it belonged to anyone but him. “You’re worse. Can’t even stand on your own two feet.”

Matteo considers this, how he hasn’t moved for a solid five minutes now, how his muscles seem to have forgotten what walking is. “You’re right,” he says into David’s ear. “You should carry me so I don’t fall over.”

“Are you crazy?” David’s breath is warm against his cheek. “You think me carrying you is gonna stop you from falling over?”

Matteo traces the ridge of his shoulder blade with his fingers. “You were in Sports LK, right?”

“So?”

“So,” Matteo says, “that means you’re strong and you’re buff and I believe in you.”

David pulls himself out of Matteo’s grip and raises his eyebrows. “And you’re lazy.”

Matteo can’t help but grin in response. “And I’m lazy as _fuck_.”

David bursts into laughter once again. The street’s so empty the sound of it echoes, reverberating through the core of Matteo’s body.

After a moment, the laughter quiets, and David looks at Matteo. Just looks at him, smile still clinging to the corner of his mouth. And Matteo looks back. He loves moments like this, honestly. When it feels like the whole world has slowed down beneath their feet. Just a bit, just enough for him to feel the weight of every second that passes between them. He wants to take this time to commit every inch of David’s face to memory. To etch the feeling of their shared joy, boundless and infinite, into his very bones.

If he had all the time in the world, maybe he would.

“Okay,” David says.

Matteo blinks. He’s half-forgotten what they were talking about. “Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll carry you,” David says. “But only if you believe in me the whole way home.”

Matteo stares at him, searching his eyes for a joke, for teasing. He doesn’t find any of that. In David’s eyes he just finds truth. Like he always does.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says. His own truth.

So David bends down, and Matteo climbs on and wraps his arms around David’s neck. And David’s hands come up to rest beneath his thighs, and now they’re walking.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” David gasps, shoulders trembling with effort and with helpless laughter. “What do you even eat?”

“You signed up for this,” Matteo reminds him, fingers tightening in the fabric of David’s hoodie.

“Well, shit,” David says. “Why did I sign up for this?”

“Because you’re drunk but I’m drunker,” Matteo says.

“You’re a disaster,” David says. Matteo almost wishes he could see the expression on his face right now, the fondness living in the corners of his eyes, the warmth of his smile, the reality of it. He can see it when he closes his eyes, though. He can see it so clearly.

“So are you,” Matteo says.

“So am I,” David agrees.

Matteo brushes his mouth against David’s ear. “There’s another reason.”

David hums. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

“You love me,” Matteo says.

The words burn so bright and so hot he almost thinks they could sear the inside of his mouth.

But he says them, still, because he has to, and because he wants to.

“Yeah,” David says. “You're right. I do.”

He’s said that countless times, they both have, and yet Matteo still feels giddy when he hears it. If he was still walking he’d feel weak in the knees. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol. But Matteo doesn’t think the alcohol can entirely account for it, because he knows he feels this way when he’s sober, too. He feels this way all the time.

He notches his chin on David’s shoulder, and fixes his gaze on the horizon. At the edge of it he can just make out a smudge of yellow, melting seamlessly into inky blue. The sun’s starting to rise. The sun is starting to rise, and despite his complaints David’s arms aren’t shaking, and he keeps putting one foot in front of the other like it’s nothing, like it’s something he’ll do for the rest of his life.

He really is strong.

With a shaky exhale, Matteo tucks his face into the crook of David’s shoulder, and skims his nose against the skin behind his ear and presses his mouth to his skin. “Don’t let go of me,” he says, very quietly.

The words don’t burn, this time. They could break on the tip of his tongue.

There’s silence, for a long moment.

And then David’s grip on his legs tightens.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers back. “I won’t.”

And Matteo squeezes his eyes shut, and clings.


	9. everything works out so good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Matteo go grocery shopping.
> 
> Originally posted 4/15/2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey remember when I said I wasn't going to do a full rewrite of another fic in this series? Well that was a lie.
> 
> The original fic I wrote for White Teeth Teens involves David and Matteo adopting a stray cat and is basically nothing like what follows this author's note lol. But if you want to check it out, it's right [here](https://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com/post/184198868972/everything-works-out-so-good)!

[ _We wouldn't be seen dead here in the day_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AemhloNlrEM)   
[ _I guess you're lucky that it's dark now_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AemhloNlrEM)   
[ _And if I like it then we'll stay_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AemhloNlrEM)   
[ _Impress the empress, take a shot now_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AemhloNlrEM)

-

It was Matteo’s idea to go to the store today, actually. David thinks he would have been perfectly content to stay on their couch if no one had said anything, bare legs tangled together as Matteo played some game on his computer and David sketched in his notebook. He probably would have been happy to stay there for a very long time.

But Matteo was the one who nudged his elbow with his toe, and he was the one who said, “Do you want to go to the store with me?”

And David was the one who said yes, because in the end he’s happiest to be where Matteo is. And that’s the truth.

So here they are in the store, about half an hour before it’s supposed to close. There’s a few people scattered throughout the store, browsing the produce or shuffling through the check-out line or loitering at the deli. If David were here by himself he knows he’d find the emptiness of the place disconcerting, feel it like a persistent itch beneath his skin. Feel self-conscious, probably, irrationally – as if fewer people around to see him means their judgments matter all the more. He hates feeling that way. Feeling so exposed for no good reason.

But he’s not here by himself. Matteo is with him, pushing the cart through the cereal aisle with impressive enthusiasm, head turning this way and that way, hands occasionally reaching out to shove boxes off the shelf straight into the cart. And David doesn’t think about anyone else in the store as he watches Matteo. Right now there’s only one person’s opinion he cares about, and that person is currently piling half the store into their cart without a single fuck to give about anything.

“You didn’t make a list, did you?” David says, tapping the toe of Matteo’s shoe lightly with his own.

Matteo knocks a box of oatmeal into the cart with the palm of his hand. “I’m following my heart. Don’t need a list for that.”

David peers at the contents of the cart. “Your heart said we needed eight different kinds of pasta?”

“Absolutely,” Matteo answers without missing a beat. “We have to be prepared for every pasta-related emergency possible.”

“Mm.” David reaches out to brush Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. He still gets that quiet thrill in the pit of his stomach whenever he touches Matteo, at the thought that he can just do that now, and he’s allowed to because Matteo will let him. Honestly, it’s probably never going to go away. “Your heart sounds very sensible.”

He starts to let his arm fall, but before it drops down to his side Matteo reaches up to grab his hand. He turns his face and brushes his mouth against the inside of David’s wrist, soft as anything.

“Not as sensible as yours,” Matteo murmurs against David’s skin.

God. And Matteo can touch him, too. So easily, as if he barely has to think about it. And David would let him. He’d let him every single time.

He’s not over the quiet thrill of that, either.

“What about you, anyway?” Matteo says as he drops David’s hand.

David raises his eyebrows. “What about me?”

“You haven’t put anything in the cart,” Matteo says.

“You seem to have it pretty under control,” David says, gesturing at the towering stack of pre-made sandwiches heaped in the corner of their cart.

Matteo shrugs. “We can put some of it back. If it’s too much, I mean.”

It’s not too much. Not with Matteo. Never with him.

“Life’s too short not to get the things you want,” David says.

The corner of Matteo’s mouth quirks upward. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” David says. “I mean, the planet is probably going to die in the next fifty years, anyway, so might as well enjoy all this cereal while we can, right?”

Matteo nods slowly. “Uh huh.”

“Eating whatever we want is our fuck you to capitalism and corporate greed,” David says. “Obviously.”

Matteo tilts his face down, smiling at his shoes. David kind of loves that look on him. He kind of loves it a lot.

“That’s how it works, huh?” Matteo says to the floor.

“That’s exactly how it works,” David replies with a decisive nod. “And I’m the expert.”

Matteo huffs out a quiet laugh. He glances up at David, smile still lingering at the corners of his eyes.

“You too, you know,” he says.

David blinks. “What?”

Matteo reaches for David’s hand, a casual and unthinking gesture. When their fingers tangle together it just feels right. As natural a thing to do as breathing.

“Life’s too short not to get the things you want, too,” Matteo says.

David tightens his grip around Matteo’s hand. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Matteo says plainly, with the same kind of tone of voice he’d use to say that the sky is blue, or that water is wet. “So what do you want?”

Usually when Matteo asks David a question, he likes to think about it. A lot of the time he already has an answer to it because it’s a question he’s already thought about. Maybe someone asked him in the past – maybe he asked himself. He’s the kind of person who is pretty much always asking himself questions.

This one, though. He tries to think of his answer, tries to remember it, and he comes up with nothing – his brain as blank as an empty page. It occurs to him, in this moment, that perhaps this is a question he’s never truly asked himself before. Or perhaps it’s just a question he’s never thought about. Perhaps it’s a question he’s never let himself think about.

It’s a strange feeling he gets whenever he stumbles on something he hadn’t thought of before. But around Matteo, it isn’t anything new.

“I don’t know,” David says.

Matteo nods, like that was an answer he was expecting.

“Okay,” he says. “So let’s keep looking until you know.”

David has to smile, at that. “The store closes in twenty minutes.”

Matteo bursts into a grin. “Guess we gotta go fast then, huh?”

And with that he turns around, grabs hold of the cart, and promptly begins to sprint down the aisle.

“Hey!” David shouts as he breaks into a run after him. Somehow he doesn’t care that he might attract unwanted attention, that everyone in this store might be looking at them after that outburst. Following Matteo is what he wants to do right now, and he figures that’s as good a place to start as any.

And so they run through the store, not stopping, never stopping. And Matteo keeps looking back and catching David’s eye, wild laughter spilling uncontrollably out of his mouth. And David laughs, too. He just laughs and laughs.

At last they come to a stop, mostly because they have to. Their chests are heaving, and there’s a dull ache blooming between David’s ribs, spreading slowly through his whole chest. Matteo leans his arms on the handle of the cart and lets his head drop down, his breath coming out fast and hard. David looks up at him, and then he sees what’s on the shelf behind him. And his eyes widen. This is it, something inside him thinks. He doesn’t have to keep looking anymore. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Matteo turning his head, too.

“Did you find it?” Matteo asks, still a little breathless.

“It’s not food,” David hears himself say. “It’s not something we need.”

“So?” Matteo snorts. “Do we need five bags of Doritos?”

“No,” David says.

“And are you going to make me put them back?”

“No.”

“So?” Matteo says again.

When he puts it like that, it almost makes sense.

David lets himself walk up to the shelf. One step at a time. He swallows.

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

He cups the potted plant sitting on the shelf between both his palms, and brings it closer to his chest. It’s a succulent, one of the ones that kind of looks like a flower, with leaves that are short and squat and kind of pink at the edges. It’s beautiful. He runs a finger along the rim of the pot, and brings his mouth close to it.

“I’m gonna take good care of you,” he whispers to it.

Another time, another place, he’d probably feel enormously silly doing something like this. But he is here, and it is right now, and this is what he wants to do.

And that’s the truth.

He turns around. Matteo is looking at him. There’s this softness at the edge of his mouth that almost hurts to look at. He steps up to David, and brings his hands up so that they cover his.

His touch is so warm. Almost as warm as the look in his eyes.

“I know you will,” he says.

His words are warm, too.


	10. 'cause we're dancing in a world alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matteo and David on a rainy day.
> 
> Originally posted on 5/13/2019.

[ _You're my best friend  
And we're dancing in a world alone_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGF3C3dcOoQ)

-

It was the sound of the rain that woke Matteo up this morning, a gentle and forgiving rhythm against the roof, and it’s the sound of the rain he listens to now, lying back on the floor with his head turned toward the grey light that’s filtering in through the window. His legs are in David’s lap and David is sitting against the wall, headphones in as he flips lazily through his notes for class. It’s a couple of hours past noon and the rain has come and gone throughout the day. Truth be told, though, Matteo had been waiting for it to come back. It’s one of his favorite songs.

He presses his heel lightly into David’s stomach. “Hey.”

“Get your gross feet off me.” But David tugs an earbud out of his ear and he cups Matteo’s ankle with his palm, thumb skimming over the top of his foot, so Matteo decides not to listen to him and kicks him in the forearm instead.

“Aren’t you tired of studying yet?” he says, lifting a leg slightly into the air so that it jostles at the notebook David’s rested against his shins.

David pinches Matteo’s big toe between his fingers. “No, never.”

“Nerd. Also that’s a fucking lie.” Matteo swings his legs off David’s lap and heaves himself upright with a loud groan. He crams his body against David’s, pressing in as close as he can. David’s hip is warm against his. “Come on. Study break.”

David tilts his head so that their temples knock together. “What would we do, anyway?”

Matteo reaches an arm around David’s shoulder and squeezes him closer; always closer. “We could go for a walk,” he says. “You love those, don’t you?”

David stares at him. “It’s raining.”

“So?”

“So that’s gross,” David says, as if stating the blatantly obvious.

Matteo is offended.

“What did rain ever do to you?” he sniffs. “It’s just water.”

“Water can drown you, you know,” David says. His tone is so annoyingly matter of fact Matteo can’t resist leaning forward to blow a raspberry in his face.

“Water can drown you, you know,” he repeats, grinning.

David shoves his hand into Matteo’s face, and Matteo makes a grab for his wrist. They struggle like that for a bit, pushing turning into full on wrestling, and it doesn’t take long for them to devolve into helpless laughter. Eventually David pulls the ultimate trump card, wrapping his arms around Matteo’s waist and burying his face in his chest, and Matteo stops trying to headlock him immediately because he has to. His arms settle across David’s shoulders easily; thoughtlessly.

David turns his face so that his ear is pressed to Matteo’s sternum. Matteo wonders if he can hear the song his heart beats for him. He hopes he can feel it as Matteo does, thrumming through his veins and settling somewhere inside his bones.

“I don’t know,” David says. “I guess it just makes me kind of sad.”

“Really?” It hadn’t occurred to him, somehow. And yet it makes sense. David is a boy who belongs to the sun; he has known that about him since the day they met.

David’s fingers skim across Matteo’s waist, where his shirt has ridden up a little. “I bet you love the rain.”

Matteo closes his eyes. He imagines, for a moment, that David’s touch might leave behind a permanent imprint, something he could carry with him wherever he goes. A streak of brilliant color across his skin.

“I do,” he confesses.

He can feel the motion of David’s nod against his body. “Don’t you find it kind of depressing, though?”

Matteo doesn’t answer, for a bit. Instead he listens to the rain. Really listens. It’s so soft against the rooftop. He could float inside the sound of it. He wants to let it surround him, wants to wrap himself up in it like a cocoon.

He used to run to the window during a thunderstorm, when he was a child, hands clutching at the windowsill as he watched fire streak through the sky. The thunder never scared him. It made him feel like heaven was paying attention to the earth, for once, and even after he stopped really believing in heaven he’s never quite been able to shake off how seen the rain makes him feel. How safe.

David belongs to the sun, but the first time Matteo saw him, he almost could have sworn he tasted rain on his lips.

“No,” Matteo says. “I actually...  I find it peaceful.”

“Oh,” David exhales.

It’s a beautiful sound. Matteo imagines cupping it in his bare palm.

“Oh?” he echoes.

“That sounds nice.” David’s voice has a tinge of wistfulness to it, now, and frankly that’s just wrong. He should never sound wistful. He should never sound like anything remotely close to sad.

Matteo opens his eyes and pushes at David until he straightens. He stands up, and David stands too, looking at him with a question in his eyes.

Matteo’s answer is to tangle their fingers together and pull him toward the window. With his free hand he unlocks the latch.

“What are you doing?” David asks. His eyes haven’t left Matteo’s face yet.

Matteo lets the window swing open. “Just - here.” He pulls until their joined hands are sticking out the window. The rain is soft, and slow. It’s impossibly gentle against the back of his hand. He releases his grip on David and turns his outstretched hand to the sky, counting the drops that mark his skin. His fingertips tingle. He turns to look at David, sees the look of awe in David’s eyes; feels warm all the way to the core of him.

He watches as David turns his hand, too.

And now they’re both catching raindrops in their palms.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Matteo says, nudging the side of his hand against David’s.

David’s eyes flicker up to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” he says.

They pull their arms back inside and David pushes the window shut. He brings his rain-soaked hand to Matteo’s jaw. The awe in his eyes hasn’t yet disappeared. It glows bright as he leans in, cold fingertips brushing against the shell of Matteo’s ear, and kisses him.

This is the reason Matteo doesn’t chase after storms anymore, he thinks. This, right here. The warmth of David’s mouth, the gentleness of his touch against his jaw. Matteo curls his fist in David’s shirt, right over his heart. He can feel David’s pulse against his knuckles, the steadiness of it. He closes his eyes. The breath seeps out of Matteo’s lungs, pours through his lips into David’s mouth. David gasps, and parts his lips. He takes, and he takes. And Matteo gives it all to him.

And the world is dark, and David’s mouth is soft and sweet against his. And the sound of the rain is all around him. In this moment, he’s back in a world that belongs to the two of them, and only them. A world they built with their own hands out of their shared silence and the unspeakable comfort they give to each other. His favorite place to be.

And it’s just for a moment. But it’s enough.

David’s hand slides down his face and his neck to rest on his shoulder, and they break apart slowly, like the parting of clouds. They lean their foreheads close, and their breaths mingle together. Matteo can only smile, at the feeling of it.

“Okay,” David whispers, lips so close to Matteo’s he can almost taste the words. “I get it now.”

Matteo closes his eyes again. It’s a nice feeling, to know that today he doesn’t have to wait for the thunder to feel calm inside of himself.

Because David is not a storm, and he is not a heaven on earth. He is a boy; his boy.

And that’s the most beautiful thing Matteo can fathom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit of housekeeping:
> 
> -Title of this series is from Buzzcut Season by Lorde. Every fic takes its title and inspiration from a Pure Heroine song. I've ordered this in album order and you can check out the link on the lyrics at the beginning of each fic to listen to the song.
> 
> -So now that I've finished editing this thing up, what's next? I have a fic in my backlog I'll probably be posting soon. I also have a couple more hefty wips in the works. It's... going to be a while before either of them see the light of day I think, but I'd like to see if I can keep posting some shorter stuff while I'm working on them, so to that effect I am now taking prompts on tumblr! Please see [this post](https://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com/post/186130080242/gonna-try-this-taking-prompts-thing-for-real-this) for more details. If I don't get any prompts I'll still figure something out but fwiw I'd love to hear what ideas you guys have!
> 
> -Find me on [tumblr](http://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/canonlyanxious)!
> 
> And that's all I've got for now! Thank you for reading!


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